


In A Wounded Dawn

by ruric



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Community: slashthedrabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-16
Updated: 2005-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:19:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to episode 2:16 - Epiphany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In A Wounded Dawn

Consciousness was slow to return and when it did he almost wished it had stayed away – maybe permanently. 

First thing he was aware of was the pounding in his head, starting somewhere at the back of his skull, extending slender fingers along his jaws and pressing down from his crown, to explode in shattering jagged light behind closed eyes.

The second was that something inside grated with every shallow, hitched attempt at breath.

Sensation returned far too quickly and painfully after that. 

A moment of panic followed by worried rubbing revealed that he wasn't blind, but that his eyelids had been glued together with crud that could have been an accumulation of tears, blood and who the hell knew what else.

Carefully opening his eyes to a cautious squint, he winced at the brightness, far more daylight around than he'd hoped or wanted to see. Plus, the tickling under his cheek? Turned out to be grass. Supposed he should be grateful that the bastard hadn't just left him lying in the middle of the road, but had at least hauled him onto the sidewalk.

Got an arm under his body, pushed himself up, then hissed as the world spun drunkenly for a moment. 

Felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died so he turned his head, coughed and spat just wanting the taste gone. Forgetting about the ribs until pain wrapped both her hands round his lungs and squeezed…hard - then he cursed, slowly, colourfully on half-breaths and at length, 'til he ran out of energy. Sat counting heartbeats, breathing through the pain, waiting for the world and his stomach to settle 'til he could get his legs under him and stagger to his feet.

No sign of the truck, no sign of anyone and it was a hike back to the new apartment he'd shared with Darla. Nothing to do but wrap his right arm around himself trying to support his ribs, try and hide the shattered stump and missing hand, and start walking.

Got back to his building to find the truck outside, windshield fractured and splintered - a bitch to replace – and the bodywork showed more damage than could be accounted for by bouncing a vampire off it, even at speed and a couple of times. Son of a bitch had even left a note tucked under the passenger-side wiper.

He wasn't surprised when he got into the apartment to find Darla had not only cleared out taking all her clothes, but one look at the open drawers showed she'd cleaned out anything that was valuable or looked like it could be hocked. 

Couldn't even say he blamed her for leaving – nothing left for in her in LA. 

He wondered what it said about himself that he was more pissed about the damage done to the truck than the damage done to his heart. Wondered if he'd ever get rid of the taste of bitterness and blood, longing for something from Angel he'd never have.

**Author's Note:**

> Written fot the "taste" prompt on the LJ community [slashthedrabble](http://slashthedrabble.livejournal.com/).


End file.
